And my heart might not be shaped like yours
by ZBBZL
Summary: Interviewing nannies ended up being more exhausting than the sixteen hours she'd spent in labor. In which Clarke's a single mom and Bellamy's her new nanny.
1. Chapter 1

**Title** : _And my heart might not be shaped like yours (but I swear it is big enough to be your home)_  
 **Setting** : modern-day AU, single!mom Clarke and nanny!Bellamy

 **A/N** : This story started as a drabble idea as I was talking with labonsoirfemme, and eventually turned into a multichap. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think. :)

Title from Cocoon's _Baby Tiger_. Cocoon's a French band that sings in English that I'd highly recommend.

* * *

Interviewing nannies ended up being more exhausting than the sixteen hours she'd spent in labor.

They were all very nice, and Clarke _knew_ she was being difficult - Maya was studying to be a nurse, knew everything that needed to be known about CPR and infant care - but she just didn't feel the _spark_ , that instant warm and safe feeling she needed to entrust her baby to someone. But Clarke also knew that time was running out - school was about to start again, and she needed to find someone _now_.

She was checking on Lana - who was sleeping peacefully, her little thumb between her rosy lips, and Clarke could have stayed there to look at her forever - when she heard a knock at the door. _Her last hope_. She tried to remember their résumé as she walked to the door; Bellamy was a History major, a little bit older than her which was a nice change from all the teenage girls she'd seen today, and...

... _male_.

Frowning, Clarke took the man at her door in; messy dark curls fell over his forehead, a plaid shirt peeked out of his navy sweater, and he gave her a small, hesitant smile. "Clarke Griffin?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clarke nodded. "Can I - can I help you?"

His smile turned into a grin. "Um, I think _I_ can help you," he chuckled. "I'm here for -"

"You're Bellamy?" Clarke interrupted him, and he nodded. " _Okay_. You - you're _not_ what I expected," she admitted. "I knew a Bellamy when I was in middle school and she definitely was a girl, so I thought _you_ were a girl, too, which you're clearly not."

Bellamy cocked an eyebrow at her. "And, is that gonna be a problem?" he asked, broad grin tugging at his lips. "Because if it is, I can just go now and pretend I didn't spend the afternoon rehearsing Disney songs to impress you. No hurt feelings, I swear," he chuckled.

She couldn't help it; Clarke laughed. "Now I'm curious. Please, come in," she gestured, stepping aside to let Bellamy in. He may have not been what she expected, but he'd made her laugh and that wasn't an easy task. She led him to the couch, sitting on the chair facing it. "Sorry about that," she shook her head at herself, gathering the papers on the coffee table in her hands. "Clearly I didn't read these closely enough, because I'm sure I would have remembered you being a man."

Bellamy glanced at the résumés in her hands. "I actually _didn't_ specify it," he said almost hesitantly, "I didn't think that was necessary. I mean, I don't know, nobody ever believed I was a girl before, so. _Yeah_." He laughed, too, before he added, sounding half-amused and half-amazed, "Did you really print out all the résumés you got?"

Clarke felt herself blush. Wells always teased her about that, how she could go crazy with her study cards and highlighters, furiously scribbling down notes and forcing him to quiz her until the very last minute before an exam - and she'd prepared just the same for these interviews, circling and highlighting stuff as she read to target her questions. "I'm a planner," she just shrugged, and Bellamy gave her a smile that was much sweeter than teasing. "So, _Bellamy_ ," she started, tasting his name on her tongue. It felt different now that he was right here, all floppy hair and freckles and broad shoulders and big hands, far from the nice college girl his name had conjured in her mind.

Not that she minded, really. She'd spent the last four months with her daughter for only company and the rare exception of Wells, so it was a nice change to see other people - especially when she wasn't covered in vomit for once. Baby vomit was just as disgusting as any other kind of vomit, no matter what Wells tried to tell her.

(Wells _really_ was perfect about this whole thing - the being perfect with your best friend becoming a single mom when everybody else was giving her sympathetic, sad little looks, _thing_ , that is.)

Bellamy smiled at her, a little encouraging, and Clarke smiled back, feeling more at ease with him than she had with any other girl today - which was weird, considering he definitely wasn't what she'd expected. "So, you said you wanted to be a teacher?" Clarke asked. "You're a History major, right?" she added, not daring to check on her papers now that Bellamy had called her out on it.

Bellamy nodded. "Yeah. I'm double-majoring in Ancient History and Classics. I'll be working on my dissertation this year, which means I'm mostly gonna be working from home."

"Oh," Clarke said. "What's your dissertation about?"

He chuckled. "You don't want to get me started on that, trust me. My sister says I'm the biggest nerd ever, and I can't even pretend it's not true."

He grinned then, easy and genuine, and Clarke's heart clenched a little because it was hard not to see Finn in that smile. It was hard not to see Finn everywhere, to be honest. She shook her head at herself; this was _not_ the moment to think about Finn and start crying in front of a stranger, no matter how warm and charming he seemed. "You close with your sister?" she asked.

"She's my best friend," Bellamy replied easily. "She means everything to me." He paused, as if contemplating whether to say more. "It was just me, my mom and my sister while growing up, so she's my everything."

She gave him a fond smile. "That's sweet."

He shrugged. "That's true."

And it _was_ , Clarke could see it in his eyes - brown and warm and honest - and she had a list of questions she'd asked all the others but all of a sudden she couldn't remember any of them.

Because a guy who talked about his little sister like she'd put all the stars in his sky was _exactly_ who she wanted for her daughter.

It was irrational and Clarke didn't _do_ irrational, except she did, maybe - Lana _definitely_ wasn't on Clarke's five-year plan and yet here she was, all gorgeous blue eyes and brown curls, cute little fingers and toes and nose, and no matter what people said or the way they looked at her like she was crazy or stupid for having her, her daughter would _always_ be the best thing she'd ever done.

Bellamy seemed to understand that.

He gave her a look, a little frown creasing between his brows, and Clarke realized she must have been staring at him a moment too long as she got lost in her thoughts. A soft, small wail in the baby phone saved her and Clarke got up, tilting her head to her bedroom. "You wanna see her?" she asked.

Bellamy's frown faded, easily replaced by a smile as he got up too. "Sure. Let's take a look at the little princess."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I usually go with munchkin, but Princess's fine, I guess," she laughed as she padded to her room, gently opening the door. Bellamy followed her, and they both hovered by the crib; the baby was awake and wailing, wetness pooling in her eyes as she reached out to Clarke with her arms. "Hey, baby," Clarke murmured, her voice soft and soothing, as she put a gentle hand under the baby's head and back and lifted her into her arms. "So this is Lana. She's a real ray of sunshine after her nap as you can see," Clarke added with a chuckle.

"It's actually quite funny you'd say that, considering her name's Lana," Bellamy smirked, but when Clarke frowned a little, he just wrinkled his nose. "Lana. It means _shining light_ in Greek. Same root as Helen, Ella, Nell...which you didn't know or _care_ about. Never mind," he finished, shaking his head.

Clarke just stood there, fussy baby in her arms and staring at this man like he was a break from reality - which was, in all honesty, both an odd and refreshing feeling. "You _are_ a nerd," she just said.

Bellamy shrugged one shoulder, silently admitting _guilty as charged_. "Believe it or not, but reciting History facts is a very effective way to put a baby to sleep. My little sister? She didn't care about Cinderella's struggle against oppression and abuse through courage and kindness. She kept crying until I told her all about Alexander the Great or Marie-Antoinette."

"That's something," Clarke laughed softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Lana's back. "But this one's _hungry_ , and right now there's nothing she loves more than her bottle. Except maybe putting her foot in her mouth."

Bellamy gave her a sheepish smile. "Okay, uh, you want me to go, or - I don't know, help you with something?" he asked as he lifted his hand to scratch as the back of his neck. "I'm not saying you need it, I'm just offering."

Clarke knew that - but it was still nice of him to say it. Whenever Wells or her mom came over, they would offer to go for groceries or clean around and though Clarke loved them for it they still had a tendency to go overboard. "Sure," she finally said. "Can you grab a bottle in the fridge? The bottle warmer's on the counter," she indicated as she made her way back to the living-room and got herself comfortable on the couch.

Clarke watched as Bellamy did as instructed, completely at ease in her kitchen when barely months ago _she_ didn't know anything about sterilizing milk or that you shouldn't warm your baby's milk in the microwave. Lana was still fussy, seeking out her breast despite taking the bottle for weeks now so she sat her on her lap and bounced the baby on her knee. "Come on, Lana. Look at Bellamy, he's making your bottle!" she said, and at that Bellamy smiled across the room, and wriggled the bottle at them. "See, munchkin? There's no reason to be so fussy," Clarke cooed, before dropping a kiss to the baby's hair. "I swear, she acts like I'm not feeding her," Clarke added for Bellamy.

Bellamy snorted, squirting milk droplets on his inner wrist to test the temperature - _definitely a natural_ , Clarke thought as he walked to them and handed her the bottle and a towel. "There you go," he grinned at the baby with a broad, goofy smile that made Lana start gurgling in delight. "She _really_ does love her bottle, doesn't she?" Bellamy laughed as he sat on the other end of the couch.

"Yeah," Clarke agreed, _but I think she likes you too_ , she thought. She paused to look - _really look_ \- at him, and there was a warmth to Bellamy that reminded her of Wells, strong and steady and soft at the same time, and maybe that was why she felt like she could trust him despite barely meeting him. "Listen," she started as she settled Lana in her arms, her head tucked in the crook of her elbow, "I feel like I should ask you a ton of questions, you know, to make sure you know _everything_ about babies, all the things _I_ 've learned over the past few months by reading every book I could find."

"Go ahead." It wasn't teasing or challenging. Bellamy just looked at her patiently, ready to answer anything.

Clarke could ask him about CPR or if he knew the proper dose of Tylenol for a four-month old baby; then again, Maya, the nursing student, had seemed to know all about the natural cycle of the internal thermostat and the guidelines to treating a fever, but Clarke just hadn't felt _it_. That gentle, soothing aura Bellamy had, like he was the kind of guy who'd spent his life with a baby in his arms - which he _had_ , whereas Clarke's closest experience with babies brought her back to when she was a kid wandering through the hospital while her mother was busy in surgery, sometimes stopping by the nursery to watch the newborns.

In the end, she went with the first thing that popped in her mind. "So, Disney songs, huh?"

Bellamy looked away for a second, his lips tugging upward in a small smile and possibly the faintest hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. "My sister _did_ end up loving Disney more than History as she grew up," he said with a chuckle. "And they're _catchy_ , okay?"

"Sure they are," Clarke hid her smile, looking down at Lana who was emptying her bottle in big gulps. Brushing a single finger on her cheek, Clarke tried to come up with another, better question.

Bellamy beat her to it. Linking his fingers together on his lap, he leaned into her a little. "Look, Clarke," he said softly, "I've never been a nanny so I don't know the kind of questions parents usually ask in these interviews. But I'm a brother and I think I've done a good enough job with my sister." He chuckled a little then. "Okay, O - Octavia's got a potty mouth, but nobody's perfect, right?"

That made her laugh. "Your sister's name is _Octavia_? Who's that, a queen or something?" she asked, more than a little amused at the face Bellamy made.

He lifted a finger at her. "I'll have you know that Octavia was one of the most prominent women in Roman History," he said, with what Clarke imagined was his _future teacher_ voice. "Anyway. What I meant was, if you've got questions I'll be happy to answer them, really. But I bet all these other people you already interviewed knew plenty enough about babies and yet you didn't pick any. You mind if I ask you _why_?" he asked.

Lana finished her bottle, and Clarke busied herself with arranging the towel over her shoulder as she lifted her daughter against her chest to burp her. Bellamy was right; she'd seen half a dozen girls and they were all competent enough, and yet she'd managed to find a little flaw in every single one of them. Bellamy, on the other hand, seemed to be such a perfect fit, and it made it all the more real all of a sudden - the fact that she was going to go back to school and let somebody _else_ look after her daughter.

She hadn't envisioned any of these girls with Lana; but _Bellamy_ , she could see it easily. He seemed to be the kind of person kids took to immediately, and the affection had to be mutual if the fond look he was giving Lana was any indication. "I just - I don't know, there was just something missing," Clarke admitted. "And I had this checklist of everything the perfect nanny needed to be, and some of these girls fit the description but I just didn't feel the connection, you know?" Bellamy nodded his head, the corners of his lips twitching in understanding. "But with you...it's _different_. I feel like I can trust you. Does that sound crazy?" she let out a little laugh, nervous and earnest as she locked eyes with him.

Bellamy shook his head. "No," he said softly. "Honestly, it's kind of an _honor_ , really," he smiled.

Clarke smiled back, feeling a lot less heavy, as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. She knew her mother would've taken care of Lana if necessary; there was a daycare at the hospital and though Clarke preferred having a nanny taking care of the baby at home, she knew that was still a solution she could turn to. But finding someone like Bellamy - _that_ was what she wanted.

Lana started fussing again, so Clarke got up and adjusted her against her chest, gently rubbing her back as she started pacing a little. "Okay, um, I guess we should probably talk about the details now," she started, "like, schedule and stuff."

"Schedule and stuff," Bellamy echoed, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "You said you needed someone starting by the end of August. I suppose you're starting school then?"

She gave him a nod. "Yeah, I'm a Biology major. Pre-med."

Bellamy's eyes widened a little. "Wow," he breathed out, visibly impressed. "That's badass. So, uh, I guess you'll be working office hours?" he asked.

"Yeah. Part-time at school and part-time at Ark Memorial for my rotations," Clarke replied. "So basically, I'll need you Mondays through Thursdays, nine to five. Are you sure that's gonna be okay with your thesis?" she asked, a little concerned. "Because I really _don't_ want to need to look for someone else in three months because it gets too much for you, okay?"

Bellamy stood up, meeting her eyes before placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Clarke," he spoke her name gently, "I'm _not_ gonna bail on you."

His tone was serious but gentle, and Clarke felt herself nod at him. "Okay, good," she smiled. The baby had calmed a little, and Clarke felt her head loll against her shoulder. "Do you - you wanna hold her?" she offered. "I mean, she's kind of adorable when she's not fussing, so now's the time."

Bellamy let out a chuckle. "Clearly you haven't been around a lot of demonic babies if you call that little pout and wailing _fussing_ ," he teased her as he opened his arms. "Okay, gimme the little demon."

With an eye roll, Clarke gave him Lana, and bit her tongue to resist telling Bellamy what to do. He seemed to do just fine anyway; he held Lana level with his face and grinned at her and the baby squealed, reaching out to grab the messy curls on his forehead.

Clarke kept watching them as she picked the empty bottle and went to the sink to wash it. And then, since Lana seemed all but too happy to listen to Bellamy's babbling - she caught bits of baby nonsense and Bellamy _actually introducing himself_ like Lana cared - Clarke decided to wash the rest of the dishes.

And fold laundry.

Start on making dinner.

All the daily things she used to do with one eye on her task and the other on Lana in her playpen. But Bellamy was there, sprawled on his stomach on the floor by Lana's activity quilt, and Clarke wasn't sure who squeaked and cooed the most between the two.

(It only seemed natural to ask him if he wanted to stay for dinner.)

* * *

"I need to meet this guy."

Clarke looked up, startled at Wells' words. He was bouncing Lana on his knee, still making faces to amuse her. "What guy?" Clarke asked.

Wells just cocked an eyebrow at her, like she was the dumbest person he knew. "The nanny guy. Or do you say guy nanny? Nanny dude sounds better though."

"Your point?" Clarke sighed, closing her textbook and pushing her notes from last year away.

Wells grinned at her, broad and easy. "I gotta meet the guy who's gonna take care of Lana. That's my duty as her uncle," he said as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her hair. "Besides, I haven't seen you this relaxed in weeks, so I have him to thank for that."

Clarke opened her mouth, ready to argue, but the protest died on her lips. She couldn't deny that finding the perfect nanny for her daughter _had_ lifted her spirits. Bellamy had come back a few times so Lana would get more familiar with him, and admittedly it had meant for Clarke that she'd gotten to sit back and watch her baby laugh and gurgle in delight for hours as Bellamy learned where she was ticklish and how to lull her to sleep. She'd let them alone one afternoon, making the most of Bellamy being there to run some errands and get a long overdue haircut, and she'd come home to Bellamy and Lana in front of the History channel, engaged in a very serious debate about the Second Triumvirate.

Bellamy was a huge nerd, but Lana seemed to like listening to his voice. _So_.

"He's really good with her," Clarke said, resting her chin on top of her linked hands. "That's what I wanted for her. And she's really taken to him."

"Not any more than she loves _me_ , right?" Wells inquired with a grin, turning Lana in his arms so she'd face him. "You're my baby girl, okay?" he cooed. "You can't go and fall in love with the nanny like that, sweetheart. You're supposed to love your uncle the _most_."

Clarke rolled her eyes, fond and amused. "I think he had her at hello, sorry," she shrugged to Wells' indignation. "He's really good with her."

"Yeah, keep digging the knife," Wells snorted. "You done with studying?" he said, eyeing her books on the table. "This is our last week before school starts. I want to feel the sun on my face before I'm buried under political ethics and international relations."

Clarke shook her head. "I feel like I don't know half of this stuff."

"You know _everything_ , Clarke," Wells sighed. "You were the best in your class, and you _aced_ all your exams - and you managed all that while being pregnant. You've got this, really," he insisted, gentle but firm.

"Will you at least quiz me?" she tried, but Wells just narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, fine, no need to give me the look. You're tough at business, Jaha."

Wells just grinned, before getting up to collect Lana's stroller and put her in it. "Since we're going out, we could just drop by Bellamy's -"

"Wells," Clarke warned him.

"I'm just saying," Wells shrugged, buckling Lana's straps. "We're going out. We may as well take a stroll by his place so I can meet him."

"Or we could just go to the park and enjoy the sun, and you could stop trying to scare my nanny away," Clarke replied with a smile as she took the handles of the stroller from him. "Don't even deny it, I know you. You're gonna play the big protective brother and I love you for it, but Bellamy's really nice and I'd really want to keep him, okay?" she pleaded.

Wells stared at her for a second before tilting his head to the side in agreement. "Okay, fine," he said as he looped an arm around her shoulders, "but maybe I just really wanted to thank him. You've thought about that?" he teased her.

"Yeah," Clarke nodded. "But then I concluded you also probably would want to run a background check on him and if you do that I'll break your bones. Got it?" she asked in a sweet voice, looking at him from beneath her lashes.

Wells looked struck for a second. "You're really scary sometimes, you know that?" When Clarke nodded almost happily, he laughed. "And I thought your job was to _fix_ people, not break them."

Clarke just laughed at him.

* * *

They ended up at the cemetery.

There were fresh flowers at Finn's grave - probably from Raven - and Clarke felt a pang of guilt hit her since the last time she'd come here was before Lana was born. She'd just found it a bit creepy, bringing a baby to a cemetery; that was something she'd seen a dozen times in bad movies, the poor, sad girl, bringing her baby and talking to a grave, to the promise of what should have been but was brutally snatched away.

She could never do it for her father, either. His was five rows to the left from Finn's. Wells' mom's, too.

"You want me to give you a moment?" Wells murmured in her ear, his arm protectively wrapped around her, huddling her to his side.

She shook her head. "I just - I don't know what to do. Or say."

"You don't have to say anything."

Clarke sighed, letting herself sink deeper against Wells. She didn't see the point of coming here if it was just to stand there in silence. Clarke knew her mother came often to talk to her dad; she'd tried to go with her once or twice, but it'd been too hard and Abby had understood. She came with Marcus now, or with Thelonius sometimes.

For someone who wanted to become a doctor, Clarke knew she was terrible at handling death. Death wasn't beautiful or romantic; it was tragic and final, and her father had been too young, Finn even younger, and it just wasn't supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to meet a great guy and fall in love and one day her father would have walked her down the aisle; she _wasn't_ supposed to mourn the death of her boyfriend and realize she was pregnant in the aftermath.

Life just really _sucked_ sometimes.

"You know," Wells started, "I used to think that cowlick was stupid on Finn, but it really looks cute on Lana."

Clarke laughed - only Wells could make her laugh like that. "I've given up trying to tame her hair. You've got to pick your battles."

They laughed some more for a while, sharing stories about that one time in high school when Finn was suspended for that stupid prank he'd pulled on a teacher or the way Lana snored just like him in that moment between sleep and awake. And then they felt silent again; that was something else Clarke hated about this place, the deafening silence, the _stillness_ , how she could hear people's heavy breathing when they tried to hold back their tears, or the wind in the tree leaves.

She felt the tears prick at her eyes eventually, just like whenever she allowed herself to think about Finn for too long. It wasn't just about Finn, though; it was thinking of Raven and the pain she was in, losing the one person she considered family; it was saying goodbye to all the promises and projects they'd had; it was Lana who was so unconditionally loved by her and her mom and Wells but who would still grow up without her father.

"We should go," Wells said after a moment, and she let him guide her with a hand between her shoulder blades, warm and reassuring and steady.

That's when she saw _him_. Down a few rows, with a girl flushed at his side, her skin and hair a shade lighter than his but still undoubtedly _family_.

He turned his head at the sound of movement; his sister didn't. She held her head proud but Clarke could see she was biting on her bottom lip, the strong set of her jaw tensing as she did. Their eyes locked for a brief second, quiet understanding falling upon them as Bellamy gave her a short nod of his head that she reciprocated.

Wells didn't see anything. It was probably better that way.

* * *

(Neither of them mentioned it for two months.)

* * *

 _to be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : Thank you guys for the lovely feedback on this story! I've been overwhelmed by school and internships and applications and ALL THE THINGS lately, so here's a fluffy chapter to redeem myself. Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

Blueberry pancakes on the first day back to school was their thing.

A Blake family tradition of sorts, right along with being fiercely protective of each other, learning how to walk or doing their homework in the back of the bar their mother used to work in, or screaming at each other but always, _always_ coming back. There had been a time when Octavia was thirteen and Bellamy had grounded her and she'd yelled that he wasn't her dad, that she _hated_ him, before running away from their house; she'd come back two hours later and run back to him, tears in her eyes as she'd wrapped her skinny, little arms around him in a crushing hug, an apology lost in her watery hiccups. They could yell and get mad and say things they didn't mean, but just like the sun always came up and after winter, so did spring, Bellamy and Octavia came as a package, the most important person in the world to one another, sharing secret smiles and blueberry pancakes over the same kitchen table their mother used to do the accounts and sew Halloween costumes at.

On that morning, the table was filled with pamphlets about orcas and Saint Jude, Ark's foster care ward. "Lost causes, huh?" Bellamy chuckled over his coffee, some disgusting, eco-friendly brew Octavia adored and that he drank to please her. "Are we aiming to become a savior today?"

Octavia nodded. "It only seems fitting," she said, forking a piece of pancake and bringing it to her mouth, blueberry juice dripping on her chin. "Return of the prodigal daughter or something. Diana Sydney will probably cry. It'll be glorious."

She snorted and Bellamy laughed, and it felt good to laugh about it. The year Octavia had spent in St. Jude - the Sky Box, they called it, because the only thing the kids in there ever saw was the sky - hadn't always been an easy subject to broach. Sometimes Bellamy looked at his sister and all he could see was a strong and yet still broken seventeen year-old girl stubbornly refusing to cry in court after the judge had declared Bellamy unfit to care for her and sent her to St. Jude. But today, with the purple streaks in her hair, the millions of thoughts and ideas and projects racing through her mind and that mischievous spark in her eye, Bellamy could hardly remember that terrified little girl at all. "So what classes are you taking?" he asked.

She started counting on her fingers. "Juvenile Justice. English Lit. Child Psychology. Art and Design. Earth Skills. Marine Biology. And stuff."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. " _Earth Skills_? How is that even a _thing_?"

Octavia stuck her tongue out at him. "You'll see when the apocalypse comes and you die on day one because you can't start a fire or find shelter."

"You wouldn't let me die," Bellamy argued, tilting his head a little and giving her his best puppy look. Octavia just stared at him; he'd taught her that, after all, and the student had surpassed the master long ago. "I'm a born-leader," he scoffed, then. "I would get someone to do all the surviving stuff for me."

"You're a _mother hen_ ," Octavia countered with a chuckle. "You can be an ass but you'd make sure everybody's safe and sound even if it means risking your own life. Don't even deny it," she added as Bellamy opened his mouth. He closed it with an audible _pop_ , and she gave him a smirk. "Anyway. Stop mocking my life choices and tell me about your baby mama," Octavia laughed, reaching out for another pancake.

Bellamy slapped her hand away. " _O_. How many times do I need to tell you that baby's not mine, Jesus fuck," he groaned.

"You're such a drama queen," Octavia rolled her eyes. "You'd need to get laid to get a girl pregnant, and you haven't seen anyone since Roma. Or Lyla, maybe? I don't even remember, it's been so long," she teased.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want," Bellamy grumbled as he got up to get something that didn't taste like piss from the fridge. "Your coffee sucks, by the way."

" _My_ coffee doesn't come from some multinational that enslaves people, thank you very much," Octavia snapped. "Stop changing the subject. We were talking about your vow of celibacy."

"We were not," Bellamy just said, a little more grumpily than he wanted. "I don't have time to date. I've got my dissertation to work on."

Octavia frowned, a low sigh escaping her lips as she rested her chin on her hand. "When did you become so _old_? Like, for real. You're _twenty-six_ , Bell. Live a little."

"I'll live a little when I make enough money to get us both out of crushing debt," he grumbled as he finished his pancake and pushed his plate aside. "And that girl's paying me more than working for Nygel ever did, _so_."

At that, the crease between his sister's brows furrowed tighter. "What kind of rich girl would hire _you_ as a nanny when she could get anybody else?" she asked, skeptical.

Bellamy pushed his chair back and grabbed both their plates, clearing the table. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, O," he snorted. "It's not like I learned how to change diapers when I was six."

"You know what I mean," Octavia dismissed him, picking the rest of their dishes and putting them in the sink. They stood side by side at the sink as she washed the dishes and Bellamy dried them, and she thought carefully about how to voice out her next thought for a moment. "You know, Lincoln's been thinking about hiring someone to help him at the gallery," she finally said. "I could work there. I'm there almost all the time, anyway."

Bellamy sighed as he dried his hands with a towel, avoiding her gaze. "If you want to get a job, fine. But you're keeping the money to save it."

"Bell -"

"I've got this, okay?" he insisted, his hand coming up to the nape of her neck as he bent down to press a kiss on her forehead. "Besides, being a nanny will make me look a lot more mature and reliable than working at a bar. It's good for my career."

Octavia laughed and she hugged him back, one arm wrapped around his waist as she raised her free hand to ruffle his naturally messy hair. "Don't bore that baby to death with Helen of Troy, okay?"

He laughed, too, because that's what his sister did to him. "Shut up. Babies love stories. That baby girl might become a History teacher one day."

"Whatever, nerd," Octavia said, pushing at his chest. "Just go. I'll see you at dinner."

Bellamy grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and smiled at her to go save the world from the door.

(He didn't even believe himself when he added that she should ask Lincoln to come over for dinner, too.)

* * *

It was around _four_ in the morning when Clarke decided that this was going to be the worst first day back to school _ever_.

Lana had woken her up at two for feeding and apparently decided that tonight was _the_ night to give up on the regular sleeping pattern she'd been developing on her own, much to Clarke's delight because books (and a couple of women she'd talked with at infant care classes) had painted a picture of sleep deprivation and huge purple bags under the eyes that just _couldn't_ do with being an overwhelmed, straight A's pre-med student. Lana usually slept through the night now, but she'd started wailing every time Clarke had tried to put her back in her crib. She'd ended up going back to her own bed with the baby, making walls of pillows and stuffed animals around her - _with no success_. Lana had refused to go back to sleep no matter how long Clarke rocked her in her arms, sang (she'd even tried that _Little Mermaid_ song Bellamy had gotten in her head) or pleaded.

That was why she opened the door hours later in a tank top with a suspicious vomit-like stain, a bad case of bed head, and a fussing, red-faced baby in her arms. "Thank God you're here," Clarke let out with a heavy sigh as she stepped aside to let Bellamy in.

Bellamy smiled, easy and a little amused. "This is the first time I've ever heard someone say that to me. It feels nice. I might get used to it." He paused, hung his jacket and messenger bag on the rack, and then smiled broader. "Okay, I'm already used to it."

"You're a jerk," Clarke laughed a little, still balancing a crying Lana on her hip. "She's been like that all night," she explained, brushing the curls falling over the baby's forehead away, her thumb wiping at the tears on her chubby cheeks, "and she gets even worse whenever I try to put her down. I need to take a shower and get ready and -"

Bellamy's smile turned soft. "Just give her to me. That's what I'm here for, right?" he said, reaching out. Clarke transferred Lana in his arms, and stupidly felt good when her daughter _didn't_ immediately stop crying. She, however, didn't know how to feel about the rush of warmth she could feel rising high on her cheeks when Bellamy started cooing in that low, soothing baby voice. "What's going on, princess?" he asked Lana, cradling her head to his shoulder as he rubbed his free hand on her back. "Tell me about it."

Lana's cries were muffled against his shirt, and _Clarke_ wanted to tell him what was wrong. She was exhausted, and the lack of sleep was giving her a headache; her stomach was tied in knots at the thought of leaving Lana alone; and she hadn't seen any of her classmates since before Lana's birth and she wasn't sure she was ready for the sympathetic looks from some or the prying questions being a single mom inevitably brought. But Bellamy wasn't here to listen to her outbursts or doubts; he was there to look after Lana, and they weren't even friends, anyway. The thought only made Clarke's heart clench a little because it seemed weird, all of a sudden, to entrust her daughter to someone she didn't call a friend; or maybe it was the fact that she wanted _Bellamy_ to be her friend, for a reason she still couldn't explain to herself.

He was nice, and he was good with Lana; those were two very good reasons. But it was more than that. Clarke didn't have a lot of friends; she had Wells, of course - Wells had always been there, and he always would be - and she had Raven, too, but Raven wasn't there a lot lately and Clarke missed her like crazy. Most of the people she knew were just girls from her program she sometimes had a drink with, but that was it. It hadn't always been easy to make friends because of her parents' wealth and public attention; Wells, being the Mayor's son, knew exactly how that felt like.

Bellamy was _nothing_ like them, Clarke had gathered very quickly from the few times she'd seen him the past few weeks. But she felt drawn to him somehow. Having dinner with him and getting to know him - listening to him talk about his sister, his passion for History or his tight-knit group of friends - had made her long for it, the simple, easy intimacy that came with befriending someone you didn't have to know everything about. Bellamy didn't know about Finn; Bellamy didn't get overly protective like Wells, so much it sometimes became too overwhelming. It was new, refreshing and nice.

Clarke hadn't realized she'd spent so much time thinking about Bellamy. She felt herself blush even more, and she shook her head for good measure. Bellamy was rocking the baby in his arms, completely focused on her and oblivious to the way she was still standing there, staring at him. "You sure you've got this?" Clarke still asked. "She's really fussy and you won't get any work done if she doesn't calm down. I could still call the hospital and tell them -"

"Clarke," Bellamy interrupted her, using the same tone he did with Lana with her, calm and gentle and reassuring. "Go take your shower. No buts," he added before she could say anything.

She was totally going to say _but_ ; but _what_ , she didn't know, but that wasn't the point, so Clarke just gave him a nod and turned on her heel and aimed for the bathroom. The water in the shower soon drowned out Lana's cries, and Clarke allowed herself to tune her thoughts out for five minutes as she felt her shoulders relax and willed her headache to go away under the hot spray. Worrying wouldn't help, and if anything happened the hospital was hardly a ten minutes drive from her apartment.

So much for _relaxing_ , yeah.

The sight she was greeted with as she came back to the living-room did help a little, though. Lana had calmed down and was comfortably settled in Bellamy's arms, and she'd accepted to drink her bottle without spitting half of it on him, so that was progress. She had to laugh at what was on TV, though. "You're not allowed to brag about this," Clarke warned him.

Bellamy gave her a smile, more sweet than smug. "I told you babies loved History. I mean, two babies raised in two completely different families who _still_ end up loving being lulled by History? That has to mean something. It's science, even."

"Or maybe it's because the guy doing the voiceover in those documentaries has the most boring voice ever," Clarke said over her shoulder as she went to the kitchen to start on her coffee, only to realize a cup was already cooling down there. "Thanks for the coffee," she told Bellamy warmly. "You want anything?"

Bellamy chuckled. "I'm good. My sister's gotten into this new phase where she only buys eco-friendly, fair-trade stuff, and her coffee tastes so bad I'm scarred for life."

"As a future doctor, I feel like I should tell you that what makes food so delicious is tons of chemicals that _aren't_ good for you and that you should thank your sister," Clarke replied as she went to sit with him on the couch, dropping a handful of sweets on the coffee table, "but I don't care if they make Oreos with worm poop as long as it tastes this good."

Bellamy stared at her with round eyes.

And then he started laughing, loud and unrestrained, and Lana stopped drinking from her bottle all at once at the sound. Clarke stared right back at him, and she watched as he tried to school his face but failed miserably. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he said, out of breath, "but _worm poop_ , really? How old are you, _four_?"

Clarke's eyes widened, incredulous. "Coming from the guy who got that _Part of your world_ song stuck in my head?"

Bellamy just shrugged one shoulder, readjusting Lana in his arms and bringing the bottle to her mouth again. "Worm poop," he mouthed the words to himself, grinning. "You're so classy."

"Never pretended I was," Clarke snorted, and maybe that would have worked better if she hadn't been wearing her hair in a sophisticated bun.

Still, Bellamy bowed his head a little. "Point taken, Princess," he laughed.

Clarke's hand froze midway as she raised her cup of coffee to her lips. Bellamy was back to focusing on Lana in an instant, stroking her cheek with a finger, and she was sure it had just slipped. Bellamy was the kind of guy who gave nicknames easily, she'd picked that very quickly with the way he always called his sister O, or referred to his friends not by their names but by things like _that idiot_ with that tender affection laced in his voice.

Taking a sip, Clarke decided to ignore it. Instead she turned her attention to the TV. The documentary was about some French princess she'd never heard of, with a name she wasn't sure she knew how to pronounce. "You still haven't told me what your dissertation is about," she told Bellamy like it was something she was entitled to know. Which Clarke felt like she _was_ , in a way, because she wasn't sure she wanted her daughter to be sung to sleep about three headed-dogs or other monsters.

Bellamy looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Feminist literacy criticism: deconstructing the patriarchal and misogynistic representations of women in Greek and Roman mythology," he recited. At Clarke's confused look, he elaborated. "It's a study on how women were represented in myths and how myths have been used as a tool by patriarchal societies to enhance and perpetuate gender stereotypes. Like, most of the time women were represented as either the saint or the sinner, and we've been reinforcing the same female images through history. My dissertation focuses on how modern, feminist authors have tried to give an alternative to that binary opposition of the angel and the whore."

Clarke looked at him like he was surreal. "That's... _something_ ," she said dumbly, and kind of hated herself for sounding so. Bellamy just sat there and kept smiling at her, and she almost missed her mouth as she tried to bring her cup to her lips again. "Like, that sounds cool. Totally mommy-approved if you want to tell Lana about it."

Clarke bit her tongue at how ridiculous that sounded. _Mommy-approved_ , what the hell? Raven would tease her about it forever if she knew; maybe she could text her that one, see what her friend would say about it - maybe acting normal was the only way to ever _feel_ _normal_ again, after all.

"Good to know," Bellamy just said, smile still on. "I can tell you about it too if you really want. But maybe some other time, or you'll be late," he added, tapping a finger to his watch.

Clarke looked at hers and realized she needed to _hurry_ if she didn't want to be late on her first day. " _Shit_ , okay, I should have left five minutes ago," she almost squeaked as she got up. She put her coffee cup in the sink and grabbed her sweets, dropping them in her bag. "Okay. Okay, you know where everything is, but I put little notes everywhere just in ca se," Clarke told him as she scanned the room and spotted one of her yellow post-it notes. "And you've got my number already, but I put some useful numbers on the fridge just in case. My mom. My step-father. Wells, my best friend," Clarke started counting on her fingers. "You've got the hospital too, I'm on rotation in the pediatric unit, and I've added my mom's -"

" _Clarke_."

She met his gaze and realized Bellamy had gotten up, too, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Your mother works in the trauma unit, I know. You gave me all these numbers the other day. I even have your school schedule printed so I know wherever you are every hour of the day. Which is more than _slightly_ creepy, by the way, but you're the one that gave it to me." He gave her a smile, genuine and comforting. "You're good to go, okay? I understand that you're nervous, and if you want to stay home one more day, no one's gonna blame you. But you're good. You really are."

His eyes never wavered from hers, warm brown so encouraging and reassuring Clarke felt herself nod her head at him. She could do this, and she trusted him, as crazy as that could sound.

Bellamy squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded again, to herself this time. "Okay. You're right. Let me know if anything's wrong, okay?" she still asked.

Bellamy nodded, and she dropped a quick kiss to Lana's forehead before he gently pushed her towards the front door.

* * *

She resisted texting him for an hour.

* * *

He beat her to it. When she took out her phone from her pocket, she had one unread message from Bellamy. Attached to it was a picture of his shirt with a vomit stain on it and a smiling Lana drooling a little against his neck.

She saved it mechanically.

* * *

 _to be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

It started out easily enough.

Over the course of the past month, they'd developed a routine without even realizing it. Clarke would add a second mug for him as she brew her coffee; Bellamy would bring leftovers of his sister's brownies; she'd come home and find Bellamy giving Lana her bath and telling her stories of sea creatures and great battles, that soon turned into Clarke asking Bellamy about the progress on his dissertation over a beer or dinner.

It was nice, in a way nothing had felt in a long time.

Her mother worried all the time - did she get enough sleep, how did she handle school and the baby, she got a B, _oh my God_ , did she want her to talk to her professor about it, no big deal, she went to med school with her? And Wells wasn't so much better. He never doubted her, knew better than to do so, but he had this chivalrous thing about him where he would've been ready to drop anything for her if she asked - and Clarke _didn't_ want to be that person. The one who needed help; the one people expected to fail somehow. She knew what most people thought of her choice to keep her baby, and although her mother was supportive, Clarke still knew that deep down she'd have wanted another life for her. And Clarke could understand it, _really_ : what mother would want her twenty-one year-old daughter to raise her baby on her own after her boyfriend died?

Bellamy never looked at her like that, though. If he thought she was too young, or foolish, or _whatever_ , he didn't let on; it was nice to be around someone who didn't look at her like she was strong and tragic at the same time, and who didn't pry. He was friendly without _having_ to be, asked about her day and told her little silly, random things about how Lana did sit on her own for a whole six seconds or how he was pretty sure she _giggled_ the first time he put his glasses on.

(He _did_ look even nerdier with them than what his very _self_ \- Bellamy Blake, History major, Disney lover, rebel _with_ a cause - already let on.)

It only seemed natural then, as Bellamy got a bigger role in Clarke's stories about Lana, that Wells would start his campaign about meeting him again. Unity Day was just around the corner when he asked Clarke over lunch, casual, "So is Bellamy going to the pageant?"

"I don't know," she frowned. "I mean, I guess, yeah. Who _isn't_ going, anyway?"

Wells snorted. "Literally anyone ever who doesn't _have_ to go."

"Aw, come on," Clarke couldn't help but laugh. "You _love_ Unity Day. You're just nervous about your speech."

Unity Day was Clarke's favorite holiday, and Wells' too. She remembered being eight or nine and rehearsing with Wells for the pageant - the pride she'd felt upon being chosen for the ceremony, the afternoons they'd spent reading book after book to know everything that needed to be known about Ark, the mixed feeling of excitation and fear she'd felt minutes before entering the stage. It had been a little scary, standing in front of the audience, but she'd found her father in the crowd and met his gaze, warm and encouraging, and everything had gone well. She remembered fragments of it: hiding under a table with Wells to devour sweets during the buffet; punching Wells in the nose as she threw her hands up in the air at the dance; the fireworks in the night sky, the reds and the blues and the golden ones.

This year, though, Wells' father, Thelonius, had asked him to give a speech before the ceremony - his way of introducing Ark to the next generation of Jahas, Wells had been complaining for days despite not knowing how to say no to his father. He didn't share any of Thelonius' ambitions for him, taking his interest in the theory of politics more than in its practice. Growing up in the social circle they'd evolved in, both Clarke and Wells were used to people expecting them to follow their parents' steps, but Wells didn't care much about leading. He'd been working on his speech for a week, and from what Clarke had gathered, he'd deleted more things than he'd kept. "How's your speech going?" she asked him, softer.

Wells bit aggressively in his sandwich before answering. "Still looking for a nice way to say we used to all hate each other but now we're friends and that's cool," he rolled his eyes. "Maybe your nanny could help me with that."

"Wells," she spoke his name in a warning.

"I mean, the guy managed to get two school departments to fund his dissertation, he's got to -"

Clarke raised her hand at him. "Wait, hold on. How do _you_ even know that?" she narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't tell me you've been looking into him."

Wells _dared_ laughing. "Relax, Griffin. You're the one who told me he was double-majoring, remember? All I'm saying is, he's a History major and clearly he's got to be good with words - which I'm _not_."

Clarke just sighed. "So now your excuse for meeting him is that you need his help? Pathetic."

"I want to meet him because he's taking care of the one person I love most after you," Wells replied, half serious, half smiling. "And at some point even you _will_ have to admit it's weird you don't want me to."

Clarke let out another sigh. "Ugh, fine. If he comes to the pageant you can meet him." Wells' smile grew bigger at her surrender, and Clarke fought the urge to spill her smoothie on top of his head. "Under my strict supervision. You are not allowed to bully him about Lana loving him more than you."

"She does not."

"She kind of does," she sing-sang, and felt herself grin at Wells' indignation. It wasn't true per say that Lana loved Bellamy more, but she'd gone from crying when she was hungry or upset and cooing when she was happy to showing her affection lately, raising her arms at him when she wanted to be picked up and crying when he left at the end of the day. Clarke was convinced she would do the same with Wells if she saw him just as often, but she wasn't going to tell him so.

Wells just glared at her as he finished his sandwich, and then changed the subject.

* * *

When she got home, the apartment was empty and quiet, something that _didn't_ happen a lot when you had a five month-old baby.

Bellamy had texted her earlier to say they'd run out of diapers - how was that even _possible,_ did any parent _ever_ run out of diapers? - and that she didn't need to bother stopping by the store after class because he would. Clarke appreciated the thought; classes were tougher on her than she liked to let on, and when she came home she liked nothing better than to get in her comfiest pajamas and spend time with her daughter without caring about anything else. And Bellamy helped a lot with that. He was oddly neat, never leaving a dirty bottle in the sink or a toy laying around, and he was thoughtful beyond his nanny duties. Many a time Clarke had come home, finding herself ranting to him about her Biology TA or the stupid _rain_ of all things, and Bellamy would just make her a cup of tea and listen. A month ago Clarke would have never even just _thought_ of unloading all her problems onto him like that; but Bellamy made her feel like it was _okay_.

Clarke kicked off her shoes by the door and dropped her bag on the floor and her jacket on a chair, messing with the pristine place Bellamy had left, before going to the kitchen and helping herself with a well-deserved stash of cookies and a glass of milk. It wasn't the scented, hot, bubble bath with a glass of wine she fantasized about, but it was as close as it got. She slumped on the couch and stretched her feet on the coffee table, smiling to herself at the neat pile made of Bellamy's laptop and stash of books and how the TV was stuck on the History Channel as she turned it on.

She ended up dozing off while watching a documentary, and woke up to the sound of someone unlocking the door. Bellamy was back, hands full of grocery bags and Lana strapped to his chest in her babybjörn. "Oh, hey, did I wake you up?" he asked, soft, as he took her in, stray curls falling off her bun and blinking lashes.

Clarke's heart did a _stupid_ little jump at the sight of him. And then she shook her head, berating herself and getting up quickly to go help him, her legs almost tangling together as she did. "Hey," she said back, reaching out to take a bag from him. "How many diaper packs did you get?" she added then, a little surprised at how loaded he was.

"I figured you wouldn't have to worry about it for a while," he just shrugged, giving her an easy smile. "But hey, let me do it. This one's a lot heavier," he chuckled, pointing at a sleeping Lana with his chin.

"I know!" Clarke laughed, unbuckling the strap and taking Lana from him. "She's already outgrown her six months onesies. You chubby munchkin," she cooed in Lana's hair, inhaling her fine baby scent.

She stood there, softly rocking Lana against her, as Bellamy went to the bathroom to put the diapers in the cupboard. "You were running low on lotion too, so I bought some," he said.

Of course he did. "I'm gonna start calling you Mary Poppins, okay?" Clarke told him.

Bellamy grinned. "Only if you can pronounce _supercalifragilisticexpialidocious_ right." She made a face at him, and he smirked.

"No, but really, thank you, Bellamy," she insisted, meeting his gaze. She saw the moment when he was about to shrug before he did, and added, "Don't act like it's nothing. You didn't have to, so, _thank you_."

She didn't look away, wanting him to get how grateful she was, and after a moment he nodded his head. "It's really nothing, though," he argued. "She's an angel. It's not that hard to be a good nanny with a kid like that."

"Yeah, we'll see if you keep saying that when she starts crawling around and keeps you from studying," Clarke teased him.

"That's what the babybjörn is for," Bellamy countered easily. "Anyway. She took her bottle an hour and a half ago," he started saying as he picked up his bag and things, "and she's been sleeping for the past half hour, I think? You should get some me time for a little while."

Clarke shifted Lana in her arms, holding her head against her shoulder. "You're gonna have to tell me how you do that."

"Can't, it's a nanny thing," Bellamy chuckled as he put on his jacket and slung his bag across his shoulder. "Kids are supposed to be cuties with their nanny and monsters with their parents. It's a thing. You don't want to mess with that."

"Of course not," Clarke agreed with an eye roll. She walked him to the door, when she suddenly remembered. "Oh, by the way. Are you going to the pageant on Thursday?"

Bellamy stopped in his tracks, looking a bit startled when he turned to look at her. "Unity Day? Uh, no, I'm not. Why?"

Clarke's brows furrowed in a frown for a second. "Oh, no reason. I was just wondering if I'd see you there. I mean, the pageant can be kind of boring I guess, but the party and the fireworks are nice."

Bellamy's features softened, and it made her relax in turn. "Yeah, I guess. I haven't gone in years. I'm not - I don't dance. Like, at all. And we have this tradition with Octavia of just hanging out, just the two of us, and watch old movies," he shrugged. "She thinks I don't know she's planned for us to watch _Dirty Dancing_ , but I do," he added with an embellished shudder.

Clarke had to suppress a giggle. She might have not known Bellamy for a long time, but it amused her a lot that he was the kind of guy who would do anything his sister asked - including watching movies most guys usually only watched when they wanted to get a girl in their bed. "Did she ever make you learn the dance?" she asked, feeling a little smug at the way Bellamy's tan skin turned just a little red.

He narrowed his eyes at her for a second. "That's classified." He smiled then, and lifted his hand to the doorknob. "Anyway. See you tomorrow."

She watched him leave, and couldn't help humming the closing song for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Finn never liked Unity Day.

He always said it was about rewriting history, trying to pretend their ancestors were good people who always saw the good in uniting over destroying. Clarke didn't see it like that; she wasn't naïve, she knew that war had happened before Ark was funded, that blood had flooded before peace was hardly won. But she liked the sentiment behind Unity Day; the idea that, if only for a day, people from all horizons gathered and celebrated without caring what neighborhood they were from or what school they attended.

She attended the pageant with her mother and Marcus, dolled up like the etiquette required when you were the daughter of the Chief of Surgery and both your parents were part of the City Council. But Clarke didn't do it for the appearances; it just felt nice to trade her sweatpants and loose, stained shirts for a nice dress for a day.

She was happily surprised to see that most people seemed genuine as they came to see her and gush over Lana. Clarke didn't know what she was expecting exactly, but it wasn't _that_. She was ready for the weird, pitiful looks ( _have you seen Abigail's daughter, I'd heard she'd gotten pregnant, but I didn't think_...) because Ark was a small town where everybody knew everybody, and girls like Clarke _weren't_ supposed to get pregnant out of wedlock, even less while still being in school. And maybe it was only thanks to her mother's support, that strong aura she had about her that told people she wouldn't let anyone speak ill of her daughter, that everybody seemed so happy for her - Clarke didn't care much. She wasn't ashamed of her daughter, and there was no way Lana wouldn't attend Wells' speech.

Lana ended sleeping soundly through it all; Clarke, on her part, loved it as much as she knew she would. It was heartfelt in a way his father's speeches never were; Clarke had grown up around Thelonius and she liked him enough, but she never liked politics or trusted politicians much. Wells, because he was so adamant on not being a leader, inherently possessed all the qualities of a good one. He was eloquent and charismatic, while also being empathetic; he didn't glorify their ancestors' goodwill like history books did, but emphasized how they'd learned from their mistakes to build a better society. In that moment Clarke was reminded of why she loved Unity Day so much. It wasn't about rewriting history like Finn believed, but the hope that came despite the abundance of violence.

She was beaming when Wells joined her in the crowd after the loud round of applause he got. His cheeks were flushed as he ducked between people clapping him on the back, and he froze as he saw the look on her face. "Oh my God," he said, "please don't tell me these are _tears_."

Clarke clearly wiped at her eyes. "Shut up," she chided him. "You were great, by the way."

"Oh my God, you're crying. For _real_."

Her mother took her defense, squeezing Wells' shoulder. "That was a great speech, Wells. Very moving."

Marcus nodded his head, but Clarke saw him give a wink to Wells, the _traitor_. "You're _so_ embarrassing me," Wells all but whined as he slung his arm over her shoulders. "At least Lana's _not_ crying," he chuckled, peeking into the stroller where the baby still slept peacefully.

"I got everything on camera," Clarke teased him, but then went quiet as the children chosen for the pageant started filling the stage.

The ceremony was nice as it always was. She and Wells spent a good part of the day talking with people their parents introduced them to; doctors from the medical board, journalists, other Councilmen, and Clarke made an effort to smile and seem interested in the conversations. But what she was really looking forward was the party; a night where she could forget about school and responsibilities and just _have fun_.

And have fun she did. Her mom was taking care of Lana until the next morning, and Clarke had forgotten just how much of a party girl she used to be - something that Wells was hell-bent on reminding her. She danced with him until her head started spinning, but instead of taking a break she switched partners, letting a boy she remembered from high school twirl her as Wells started dancing with a girl who looked a lot like one of the nannies she'd interviewed.

It felt good, and liberating, to have no care in the world, to let herself have fun without worrying or feeling bad. She laughed as two boys initiated a robot dance, so loud that it turned into a pig snort that someone teased her about.

"You're so classy, Griffin."

Clarke's head snapped at the voice. She'd recognize it anywhere, despite the slight buzz she'd gotten from drinking too much cheap champagne. "Oh my God, Raven!" she exclaimed, loud and happy, as she came face to face with her friend she hadn't seen in five months. "I didn't - you didn't tell me you were coming."

Raven shrugged one shoulder. " _I_ didn't know that I was coming," she said nonchalantly, and then Clarke didn't know if she made the first step or if Raven did but they were hugging each other fiercely. "God, I've missed you," Raven breathed out in her ear.

"Me too," Clarke choked out, feeling tears well up in her eyes for the second time that night. But she shook her head, refusing to let them fall as she just hugged Raven tighter.

Eventually they separated, their arms still loosely holding onto each other, and Clarke took a minute to take her friend in. Raven looked good; better than she had the last time they'd seen each other, at the hospital right after Lana was born, and definitely more at peace than she ever had since Finn died.

It would always hang over them, Clarke reckoned; Finn was too big of a part in their life to ever stop haunting them. But for the first time in over a year, thinking of him and seeing Raven didn't hurt, didn't feel like someone was digging a knife in her heart and twisting it. They hadn't talked, _really_ talked, in forever, but that could wait. "Wanna dance?" Clarke offered, letting her hand drop from Raven's arm to her wrist.

Raven just laughed, before she started following the boys doing the robot, and that's how Wells found them both minutes later and joined them.

* * *

Raven Rayes was her soulmate, plain and simple.

Clarke loved her like she loved Lana or Wells or her mom, with a certainty and a strength that even months being apart couldn't break. Her friendship with Raven was no ordinary story. Raven had dated Finn for years before they eventually realized they loved each other more as family than anything else, and then Finn had started flirting with her and Clarke had surprised herself by enjoying it - and then everything was a mess in her head because she didn't want to hurt Raven, was sure there was a page in the book that said ex-boyfriends were out of reach. Raven had just come to her one day, told her she was an idiot for worrying so much, and that if she was holding back on Finn for her sake then she would be a _frustrated_ idiot.

Raven Reyes was simply the best.

It felt almost surreal, having her back in her life again after all the months they'd spent apart. Finn's death had taken its toll on Raven; she hadn't focused on school much, and the only reason why she hadn't been kicked out of Zero-G Mech was because Sinclair, the Chief Engineer, believed in her potential. "He said he wanted me to give everything I have this year," Raven told her. "He wants me to get a degree in engineering. Even got me a TA."

Clarke shifted on the bed, from her position on her back to her side. Raven was lying on her back, looking at the ceiling, and Lana was curled between the two of them. "That's awesome, Raven!"

Raven snorted, before tilting her head to Clarke. "Yeah, that's because you haven't met him. Remember Kyle Wick?"

The name rang a bell, but Clarke couldn't place him. Until she did, and she had to bite her lip not to grin. "The guy who worked in my dad's department and who annoyed the hell out of you during your internship there?"

Raven glared at her. "Don't act like you don't remember all too well," she groaned. "Well, now he works with Sinclair - he's his assistant. And apparently he's a TA at Mount Weather, too, _so of course_ Sinclair said he'd be my TA."

Clarke tried not to rile her up, but she couldn't help it. "Come on, he can't be that bad. I mean, I've only met him once, I think, but he didn't seem to be a bad guy."

"He isn't," Raven shook her head. "But he's _so_ annoying. Thinks he's so funny and smart, but he's _not_."

"Sounds like your type," Clarke chuckled. But then Raven's eyes widened almost comically, and Clarke's mouth opened in a perfectly shaped _O_. "Oh my God, you had a crush on him! That's why he annoyed so much!"

"Did not!"

"You so did!" Clarke laughed, and it wasn't that funny except it _totally_ was because Raven could be a five year-old when she wanted, or when she didn't want to deal with something like her _feelings_.

"I hate you," Raven muttered under her breath, turning on her side too and focusing her gaze on Lana as she lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. "Luckily the munchkin won't get her social skills from you because they're _abysmal_."

Clarke schooled her features, at least trying to look apologetic. "Okay, I'm serious now. So you had a crush on him, like, five years ago? Then what? It's in the past. It's not like he was aware of -" Clarke closed her mouth with an audible pop when Raven glared at her again. "He _knew_?"

Raven sighed. "There might have been a little incident."

"Define _incident_."

Raven groaned, flopping on her back and covering her eyes with one arm. "I may have tried to kiss him. Oh my God, close your mouth," she mumbled, motioning at Clarke's face with her free hand. "I can feel you judging me. Stop."

Clarke reached out, trying to move Raven's arm from her face. "I'm not judging, I swear. It's just a lot to process. Why am I only finding out about this now?" she asked. "You could have told me back then."

Raven looked at her from beneath her arm and then moved it, propping herself on her elbows. "I was embarrassed, okay? I tried to kiss him and he was like, _wow_ , okay, you're a kid, this is not happening. And he was right, you know? I was just seventeen, and he was twenty-three, and I don't know, he was hot, okay?"

Clarke just nodded her head. Because she was a mom now didn't mean she'd forgotten what it was to be a twenty-one year-old girl, or a seventeen year-old one for that matter; and back then, being hot was a good reason enough to want to make-out with someone. "And there's a good chance he only got hotter, and now you're gonna have to spend time alone with him and it's too much."

Raven stared at her, before blowing at a lost piece of curl falling off her ponytail. "Thanks, Captain Obvious." She rolled her eyes before she turned her attention back to Lana. "Your mommy is the worst, munchkin," she fake-whispered as she pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Am not," Clarke protested as she reached for Lana's stuffed rabbit and handed it to Raven for her to play with. "It's been five years though. He might not even remember you. Have you even come across him since then?"

Raven shook her head. "Not really. I mean, he's been working with Sinclair for a year now, but I didn't really see him or anything."

"Then there's probably no reason to worry," Clarke said. "Besides, you're not seventeen anymore. You can kiss him all you want now."

Raven didn't bother replying; instead she gave her leg a kick, and demanded that she make her breakfast.

* * *

They spent three days in Clarke's apartment, just the two of them and Lana, talking like they hadn't done in months.

Best Unity Day week-end _ever_.

* * *

Monday came and Raven had to rub at her eyes real hard when she woke up to find Clarke making coffee while some hot guy she _definitely_ knew was giving Lana her bottle.

* * *

 _to be continued_


End file.
